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01/03/2018

Fall Forward - Denzel Washington

Whaddup March! We are officially inside you!

The following speech was put together and spoken by the incredible
Denzel Washington at the 2011 Penn Commencement Address. It's a long read, but I think if you look
deeply at each statement made by Denzel you can find several strong and
powerful messages to take along with you into March 2018.

It’s always great to be on the
Penn campus. I’ve been to a lot of basketball games at the Palestra because my
son played on the team. Coach didn’t give him enough playing time, but we’ll
talk about that later. No, I’m very pleased with the progress Coach Allen has
made and I wish them success in the future.

I’d always get a warm welcome
here—except on the few occasions when I’d wear my Yankees cap.

It’s like taking your life in
your hands. People would say: “We love you Denzel. But you walking around with
that hat on…we don’t care who you are.”

Still, I’ll be honest with you:
I’m a little nervous. Speaking at a graduation of this magnitude is a little
overwhelming.

This is out of my comfort zone.

Dress me up in army fatigues.
Throw me on top of a moving train. Ask me to play Malcolm X, Rubin Hurricane
Carter, Alonzo from Training
Day: I can do all that.

But a commencement speech? It’s a
very serious affair. Different ballgame. There’s literally thousands and
thousands of people here.

And for those who say—you’re a
movie star, millions of people watch you speak all the time…

… Yes, that’s technically
true. But I’m not actually there in the theater—watching them watching me.

I’m not there when they cough… or
fidget… or pull out their iPhone and text their boyfriend… or scratch their
behinds.

From up here: I can see every single one of you.
And that makes me uncomfortable.

So please, don’t pull out
your iPhone and text your boyfriend until after I’m done.

But if you need to scratch your
behinds, go right ahead. I’ll understand.

Thinking about the speech, I
figured the best way to keep your attention would be to talk about some really,
juicy Hollywood stuff.

I thought I could start with me
and Russell Crowe getting into some arguments on the set of American Gangster…

… but no. You’re a group of
high-minded intellectuals. You’re not interested in that.

Or how about that “private”
moment I had with Angelina Jolie half naked in her dressing room backstage at
the Oscars?… Who wants to hear about that?

I don’t think so. This is an Ivy
League school. Angelina Jolie in her dressing room…?

No, this is Penn. That stuff wouldn’t
go over well here. Maybe at Drexel—but not here. I’m in trouble now.

I was back to square one—and
feeling the pressure.

So now you’re probably
thinking—if it was gonna be this difficult, why’d I even accept today’s
invitation in the first place?

Well, you know my son goes here.
That’s a good reason. And I always like to check to see how my money’s being
spent.

And I’m sure there’s some parents
out there who can relate to what I’m talking about!

And there were other good reasons
for me to show up.

Sure, I got an Academy Award… but
I never had something called “Magic Meatballs” after waiting in line for half
an hour at a food truck.

True, I’ve talked face-to-face
with President Obama… but I never met a guy named “Kweeder” who sings bad cover
songs at Smokes on a Tuesday night.

Yes, I’ve played a detective
battling demons… but I’ve never been to a school in my life where the squirrel
population has gone bananas, breaking into the dorm rooms and taking over
campus. I think I’ve even seen some carrying books on the way to class!

So I had to be here. I had to
come… even though I was afraid I might make a fool of myself.

In fact… if you really want to
know the truth:

I had to come… exactly because I
might make a fool of myself.

What am I talking about?

Well, here it is:

I’ve found that nothing in life
is worthwhile unless you take risks.

Nothing.

Nelson Mandela said:

“There is no passion to be found
playing small—in settling for a life that’s less than the one you’re capable of
living.”

I’m sure in your experiences—in
school… in applying to college… in picking your major… in deciding what you
want to do with life—people have told you to make sure you have something to
“fall back on.”

But I’ve never understood that
concept, having something to fall back on.

If I’m going to fall, I don’t
want to fall back on anything, except my faith. I want to fall… forward.

At least I figure that way I’ll
see what I’m about to hit.

Fall forward.

Here’s what I mean:

Reggie Jackson struck out
twenty-six-hundred times in his career—the most in the history of
baseball.

But you don’t hear about the
strikeouts. People remember the home runs.

Fall forward.

Thomas Edison conducted 1,000
failed experiments. Did you know that?

I didn’t either—because #1,001
was the light bulb.

Fall forward.

Every failed experiment is one
step closer to success.

You’ve got to take risks. And I’m
sure you’ve probably heard that before.

But I want to talk about why it’s
so important.

I’ve got three reasons—and then
you can pick up your iPhones.

First… you will fail at some
point in your life. Accept it. You will lose. You will embarrass
yourself. You will suck at something. There is no doubt about it.

Early in my career, I auditioned
for a part in a Broadway musical. A perfect role for me, I thought—except for
the fact that I can’t sing.

So I’m in the wings, about to go
on stage but the guy in front of me is singing like Pavarotti and I am just
shrinking getting smaller and smaller...

So I come out with my little
sheet music and it was “Just My Imagination” by the Temptations, that’s what I
came up with.

So I hand it to the accompanist,
and she looks at it and looks at me and looks at the director, so I start to
sing and they’re not saying anything. I think I must be getting better, so I
start getting into it.

But after the first verse, the
director cuts me off: “Thank you. Thank you very much, you’ll be hearing from
me.”

The next part of the audition is
the acting part. I figure, I can’t sing, but I know I can act.

But the guy I was paired with to
do the scene couldn’t be more overdramatic and over-the top.

Suffice to say, I didn’t get the
part.

But here’s the thing: I didn’t
quit. I didn’t fall back.

I walked out of there to prepare
for the next audition, and the next audition, and the next one. I prayed and I
prayed, but I continued to fail, and I failed, and I failed.

But it didn’t matter. Because you
know what? You hang around a barbershop long enough—sooner or later you will
get a haircut.

You will catch a break.

Last year I did a play
called Fences on
Broadway and I won a Tony Award. And I didn’t have to sing for it, by the
way.

And here’s the kicker—it was at
the Court Theater, the same theater where I failed that first audition 30 years
prior.

The point is, every graduate here
today has the training and the talent to succeed.

But do you have guts to fail?

Here’s my second point about
failure:

If you don’t fail… you’re not
even trying.

My wife told me this expression:
“To get something you never had, you have to do something you never did.”

So get out there. Give it
everything you’ve got—whether it’s your time, your talent, your prayers, or
your treasure.

Because remember this: You’ll
never see a U-haul behind a hearse.

You can’t take it with you. The
Ancient Egyptians tried it—and all they got was robbed!

So what are you going to do with
what you have? And I’m not talking how
much you have.

Some of you are business majors.
Some of you are theologians, nurses, sociologists. Some of you have money. Some
of you have patience. Some have kindness. Some have love. Some of you
have the gift of long-suffering.

Whatever it is… what are you
going to do with what you have?

Now here’s my last point about
failure:

Sometimes it’s the best way to
figure out where you’re going.

Your life will never be a
straight path.

I began at Fordham University as
a pre-med student. That lasted until I took a course called “Cardiac
Morphogenesis.”

I couldn’t pronounce it… and I
couldn’t pass it.

Then I decided to go pre-law.
Then journalism.

With no academic focus, my grades
took off in their own direction: down.

My GPA was 1.8 one semester, and
the university very politely suggested it might be better to take some time
off.

I was 20 years old, at my lowest
point.

And then one day—and I remember
the exact day: March 27th, 1975—I was helping out in the beauty shop my mother
owned in Mount Vernon.
An older woman who belonged to my mother’s church, one of the elders of the
town, was in there getting her hair done and kept giving me these strange
looks.

She finally took the drier off
her head and said something to me I’ll never forget:

“Young boy,” she said. “I have a
spiritual prophecy: you are going to travel the world and speak to millions of
people.”

Like a wise-ass, I’m thinking to
myself: “Does she got anything in that crystal ball about me getting back to
college in the fall?”

But maybe she was on to
something. Because later that summer, while working as a counselor at a YMCA
camp in Connecticut, we put on a talent show for the campers.

After the show, another counselor
came up to me and asked: “Have you ever thought of acting? You should. You’re
good at that.”

When I got back to Fordham that
fall I changed my major once again —for
the last time.

And in the years that
followed—just as that woman getting her hair done predicted—I have traveled the
world and I have spoken
to millions of people through my movies.

Millions who—up ‘till today—I
couldn’t see while I was talking to them.

But I do see you today. And
I’m encouraged by what I see. I’m strengthened by what I see. I love what I
see.

Let me conclude with one final
point. Many years ago I did this movie called Philadelphia. We actually filmed some scenes
right here on campus.

Philadelphia came
out in 1993, when most of you were probably still crawling around in diapers.
Some of the professors, too.

But it’s a good movie. Rent it on
Netflix. I get 23 cents every time you do. Tell your friends, too!

It’s about a man, played by Tom
Hanks, who’s fired from his law firm because he has AIDS.

He wants to sue the firm, but no
one’s willing to represent him until a homophobic, ambulance-chasing
lawyer—played by yours truly—takes on the case.

In a way, if you watch the movie,
you’ll see everything I’m talking about today.

You’ll see what I mean about
taking risks or being willing to fail.

Because taking a risk is not just
about going for a job.

It’s also about knowing what you
know and what you don’t know. It’s about being open to people and ideas.

Over the course of the film, the
character I play begins to take risks. He slowly overcomes his fears, and
ultimately his heart becomes flooded with love.

And I can’t think of a better
message as we send you off today.

To not only take risks, but to be
open to life.

To accept new views and to be
open to new opinions.

To be willing to speak at
commencement at one of the country’s best universities… even though you’re
scared stiff.

While it may be frightening, it
will also be rewarding.

Because the chances you take… the
people you meet… the people you love...the faith that you have—that’s what’s going
to define your life.

So… members of the class of 2011:
This is your mission:

When you leave the friendly
confines of West Philly: Never be discouraged. Never hold back. Give everything
you’ve got.

And when you fall throughout
life—and maybe even tonight after a few too many glasses of champagne—fall forward.